


To Dust or To Gold

by mpatientdreamr



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Dark, F/M, Fingerfucking, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Torture, sort of character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpatientdreamr/pseuds/mpatientdreamr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot didn't mind torturing somebody if it got him what he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Dust or To Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirenofodysseus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/gifts).



> For an explanation on what, exactly, each character is, check out the notes at the end. :)
> 
> And many thanks to Fleur LB for the excellent beta.
> 
> Also, the title's from Fall Out Boy's Centuries.

Eliot didn't mind torturing somebody if it got him what he wanted. Killing was easy. Making people tell you secrets they'd vowed to take to the grave was considerably harder. The fact that his enemies wouldn't hesitate to use the same tactics on him and those closest to him wasn't far from his mind, either.

The trick to making beings that could heal nearly any wound talk was to make a very permanent first impression. The ice pick heated until the metal glowed vibrant red in his hand and Chapman's eyes widened.

“Now. I'm only gonna ask you once,” Eliot said, a little growl slipping through. He really was in no mood to put up with any bullshit. “Where's the safe house?”

“They're probably not even there, anymore,” Chapman blurted. “Why do you care, anyway? This isn't like the Eliot Spencer of legend.”

Eliot stabbed the red-hot pick through the back of Chapman's hand until it was buried in the arm of the chair. Chapman screamed, trying to pull away, but his bindings held him in place. Vampires could heal almost anything, but cauterize the wound and they were stuck with a enduring reminder.

Eliot pulled out a knife and watched Chapman's eyes bulge in panic as it heated to glowing.

“Remember, Chapman. You don't know me,” Eliot said, leaning in and letting blue flames flare in his eyes. “And the legends are always only half right.” He carefully straightened out the pinky on Chapman's unharmed hand and set his blade against skin. “Now, i'm gonna take something of yours because you took something of mine, but if you answer just this one question, i'll let you walk away mostly whole. You don't tell me? Well, I'll still let you walk away.” Eliot leaned in until their noses nearly brushed. “In. Pieces.”

“Fifth and Vine,” Chapman gasped. “Ple-”

His screaming covered the sound of his pinky hitting the floor. Eliot cleaned the cooling blad and sheathed it. “That was the right decision, Chapman. Now, I'm gonna leave you here, just in case you lied to me.” Eliot pressed his hand to the bend of Chapman's neck and felt a link flare to life as Chapman screamed through his teeth at the blossoming brand. “Do you know what it means to bear a Grim's mark? It means no other Grim will take you. Oh, they'll take pieces for souvenirs or for fun. But your soul? What's left of it? Only I can ferry it to the afterlife. And if I die, your soul tries to follow me.” Eliot leaned down and smiled into Chapman's face. “Pops right out of your body and wanders. And you know who sees ghosts? Grims and they won't touch you, not with my mark on you.”

That last part was a bit of an exaggeration because some tender hearted Grim could eventually ferry his soul away but not before he'd done a few hundred years of penance. And the only thing a nearly immortal vampire feared more than death was being alone. Chapman didn't know any of that, though. It was hard to speak about Grims unless you were one.

“I swear,” Chapman said, even paler than normal. “They were at Fifth and Vine when I left to drop the message. And I’ll never come near you or yours again.”

Eliot chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder and watching him wince. “Good. I'll hold you to it.”

He spun and ran from the room, shifting once he was out of sight. Grims had better senses in their canine forms.

He found the safe house with no trouble. It reeked of Parker, Hardison, and fear. He thought he smelled at least three others but he couldn't be sure. It was empty, now, recently vacated. He followed the clear scent of Parker-and-Hardison to an abandoned warehouse as fast as his paws would carry him. He slid into the shadows, his dark form hiding him from the guards patrolling the outside until it was too late for them. One heavy paw forced the handle to turn and he slid inside, wincing at the soft click as the door latched. Vampires had excellent hearing. They would know he was coming now.

He shifted from one step to the other and peered around the corner. It was like something out of his worst nightmare, Parker hung from the rafters, her neck snapped. Moreau tipped the chair Hardison was bound to into dark, murky water.

“Come in, Eliot,” Moreau said happily, clapping his hands. “Intel seems to be correct about your hacker friend. A gremlin. He's terrified of water, you know, and for good reason since gremlins sink like stones. And your...lady friend? Nobody could figure out what she was, but she was easy enough to kill. Now. Since those distractions are out of the way, let's finish this business.”

Armed goons stepped from behind random crates to stand between Eliot and Moreau.

“Let's do this,” he said gruffly.

His scythe sliced through three goons before they even saw him move, then bullets were ripping at him, knives slashing, and he started to laugh as he kept moving, watching Moreau's smile dim as his Kiss was reduced to rubble and ash. Eliot was Death's lap dog and he could only die when He came for him.

Eliot stopped suddenly with his blade to Moreau's throat. “Ready to go to hell?”

The skin of his neck starting to boil, Moreau swallowed and rasped, “It doesn't matter as long as you die alone.”

Eliot chuckled when Moreau suddenly gaped, and a hand protruding through his chest was holding his heart. He leaned in and whispered, “I'm never alone,” and watched him turn to ash.

Parker, wreathed in flames, brushed the dust off her hands. “Took you long enough.”

She stepped towards him, her fiery wings flaring up behind her before folding away and disappearing in a wisp of smoke.

“Hold that thought,” he said as he edged around her and took off running to plunge headlong into the grungy water.

The water was held in some kind of tank or vat and Hardison was glaring at him from the bottom. Eliot rolled his eyes as he finally reached him. He cut him loose, gritted his teeth, and started trying to drag him to the surface. Then the water started to boil like it was on fire and he fought a smile because this water was nasty. Of course Parker would just turn the water into vapor. Gremlins and Grims had flame affinity. Nothing burned them but ice.

When their heads broke the surface, strong hands dragged them onto dry ground. Eliot gasped long breaths, lungs burning from lack of oxygen, and Hardison puked up streams of questionable water, but Parker was already tugging at them.

“No.” Hardison shoved her hand out of his pants and pushed her at Eliot before flopping over onto his back. “Not right now. Please, go fuck on the ashes of our enemies and leave me alone.”

“Fucking phoenixes,” Eliot gasped as Parker pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist, grinding down.

He wasn't sure if it was just a Parker thing or all phoenixes were that way, but Parker got extremely horny after rebirths.

He grabbed both of her wrists in one hand, flipped them, and shoved a hand down her pants. He'd actually enjoy fucking her over what was left of Moreau, but he couldn't get it up right now if he tried. He was bleeding too much and his body was trying to heal what, on anybody else, were mortal wounds.

He slid three fingers into her molten heat and she rode his hand, forcing him to go hard and fast. Her eyes lit, fire dancing in them, and she came with a shriek, hands clawing futilely at the air.

“Come on, darlin',” he said, forcing her back up before she'd come down. “Give me another.”

She screamed, body trembling as the orgasm ripped through her.

When she stopped shivering, he pulled his hand away and sucked his fingers clean, Parker, blood, and ash lighting something inside him, which should have been impossible, and he started to dip down for a kiss when Hardison grabbed him by the hair and jerked him upright.

“No. We are going home, we are going to take a bath because we are rank, and then we are going to fuck ourselves filthy again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Literally,” he said, shaking Eliot a little.

“Yeah, okay,” Parker said, calm again.

“Fine,” Eliot said, letting Hardison pull him to his feet.

They stumbled their way towards the door and Parker glared at him. “You're supposed to tell us when you've pissed off a vampire Kiss.”

“One vampire, three hundred years ago,” Eliot corrected. “I didn't think it was relevant.”

Parker scowled, but let it go, asking, “Do you think he'll regenerate?”

“Maybe,” Eliot said, guiding her through the door with only one glance back. “Probably.”

But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, he was going home.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon time: 
> 
> Eliot's a grim. They can take the shape of huge black dogs and are often mistaken for portents of death, which is close enough because they are, in fact, grim reapers that ferry souls to the afterlife.
> 
> Hardison's a gremlin. He's a rare fae that has an affinity for metals, which he's branched out into technology.
> 
> Parker's a phoenix. She is, it should be noted, extremely hard to kill and sometimes forgets that others aren't just as hard to kill as she is.
> 
> Moreau is a vampire. The older the vampire, the harder they are to kill. Both head and heart have to be taken at the same time or they regenerate, which is why Eliot's not sure whether Moreau will be back or not.


End file.
